All I see is a canvas, splashed with guilt, sin, and shame.
On it's written, you're a sinner, in a scorning jagged hand.
The sheet is stained, the edges torn, my record's there for all to see.
I'm an outcast, hopeless prisoner, Satan smiles his evil glee.
But then Jesus starts arranging, and the blackened space removes,
Three long nails, a crown of thorns; his blood drops down into the grooves.
He looks at me and says it's finished, go my daughter, sin no more,
I smile in wonder, my heart is broken, Jesus my Saviour, my King, my Lord.
~ Corrine Horst
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
The River Still Runs...
A couple days ago, I was standing beside the tiny creek that runs through our property. It comes from somewhere up in the mountain, and duri...
-
What a title you say! Indeed what a title. 😀 I have had some very fascinating conversations with various people and realized that there are... -
The folks were religious, or so they said. They buttoned their shirts right up to their heads. Not a single blight in their church-approved... -
I see them. They come to our classroom to visit and stand by their children's desks. Faithful fathers show up to bring devotions every T...
No comments:
Post a Comment